Saturday 30 September 2006

My recovery progresses, although nothing like as swiftly as I'd hoped. Just as things seem to get better and I sigh with relief, the eyes swell and become red once more. I am baffled. A return to the vets on Tuesday will, I hope, prove conclusive because I am bored with being ill now. Sickness lends a certain glamour to one's existence, but not for such a long time and to such extremes of discomfort. An added source of concern is that my bottom is hurting again, indicating that the glands in my back passage have once more become blocked and swollen. This happens to me, on average, every four months and is a deep, inexhaustible well of irritation to me. My partner has noticed me doing the 'botty-shuffle' on the carpet and has already informed me that the vet will be alerted. Dammit. The "treatment" for this unhappy condition is exceptionally undignified. The veterinary surgeon - without administering a local anaesthetic, mind - inserts a well-lubricated finger into my 'fire-escape', seizes each gland in turn (there's one on each side) betwixt finger and thumb, and squeezes HARD, as I squeal with pain. The glands then empty their foul built-up liquid onto a waiting pad of cotton wool. It is a necessary but excruciating business. I am trying to aim my posterior so that a squirt of the noxious juice goes into his eye. I get closer with every visit. So I have that sordid business to look forward to.

To happier topics: Still nothing from BC. My partner still yearns for him, but without encouragement. On a similar subject - my partner had a lengthy telephone conversation last night with the radiant creature that is her best friend Dolores; the most perfect human female specimen (aside from my partner) that walks this earth. I am enraptured by her and, were it possible, could happily take her as the mother of my pups. I experienced similar feelings for my partner some years ago, until I was marched off to the vets to "get it sorted out". But no amount of veterinary attention could dampen my affection for Dolores - I always do my utmost to make her aware of my adoration, but she has already chosen her husband from her own breed. No matter. The sight of her lovely face is sufficient to cheer me even in my darkest hour. She was babysitting for others yesterday evening and was conversing on the 'phone with my partner to alleviate the boredom. The human pups' parents also own a cat, which was proving tiresome to Dolores. At one point, she stated that she would "kick it in the a*se". If she had had a picture 'phone, I may well have died from ecstasy last night. (NB. She is far too kind to kick anything, in the a*se or otherwise, but the thought was exquisite balm to my tormented mind).

Good night.